Things Hidden, Things Unknown
by Alexander Silver
Summary: Johnny's private life becomes the plaything of an unknown villain, and he learns he's not the only Special out there. With the help of Parkman, he must discover who's responsible for a series of arsons and odd personal visions.  Heavy maleslash.
1. Chapter 1

Johnny stared at the postcard on the table. "So you don't know who it's from," Walt asked rhetorically.

"Nope," Johnny said. He sat in the dining room chair, his eyebrows creased in that way they would after having a particularly strange vision.

"You get a postcard from God knows who, and it gives you a vision of a bank blowing up. And it says," Walt picked the piece of paper up again. "'Hey Johnny, hope things are going well back home. New York is great, I hope I see you soon.' You think someone might be playing with you?"

"Maybe," Johnny said, sure in that very unsure way. "Maybe they planned the explosion, and sent me the postcard knowing I'd have a vision."

"Yeah, or maybe some crackpot sent you some fan mail, and they just happen to be involved in an explosion." Walt set the postcard down, and stood up. "I don't know Johnny, there's not a whole lot work off of here. I want to save lives just as much as you, but you have visions from touching all sorts of things, what if this is just something that already happened?"

"I know, but…" Johnny's response fell short. He'd already considered all the ways that this postcard could be totally meaningless. The truth was that after they told JJ about Johnny being his biological father, Johnny had been trying to find ways to fix the relationship between him and the man that had raised his son. This little clue seemed like something he might be able to pull Walt into, something that they might be able to solve together. "Alright, give me one more chance. If I can't see anything more useful, we'll drop it…for now."

"Alright Johnny, give it a shot."

He reached out slowly, his fingers shaking slightly above the shiny picture of the statue of liberty, and _he's standing in front of a bank. Everything feels fuzzy, like he's looking through fogged up glass. Red and blue lights seem to be illuminating the scene, but he can't see anyone outside. He walks towards the entrance and now he's inside. Many forms seem to be silhouetted in front of him, but he can't see any of them because a bright white inferno is approaching from behind them. Everything disappears into the white hot light. Johnny waits for the vision to end but it doesn't, he remains in the white light. The smell of smoke and death fills his lungs and he can't do anything but stand there, and soon the smells start to seep into his head and he can feel the fire just as much as smell it. Suddenly _his head was pounding like he'd been hit with a brick. Walt stood next to him, shaking his shoulder. "Johnny, hey, wake up!"

"Death…" Johnny said as he snapped up. He looked at Walt for a moment, and then his whole body convulsed once.

"Johnny, are you alright? You're burning up," Walt said, lightly touching the back of his hand to Johnny's sweating forehead. "John, you didn't tell me that it was so bad."

"It wasn't last time," Johnny said, breathing heavily. "I didn't see much more, but this time I was in the heart of the explosion."

"You mean in the bank?" Walt asked.

"Yeah…inside." Johnny wiped off his brow. The first time he had just stayed outside of the bank, unsure of why he was there.

"Did you see anything, any sort of clues as to what happened or how it did?" Walt had his police voice on now. He'd witnessed Johnny's visions for over two years now, and he knew when it was serious.

"No…" Johnny said, then stopped, realizing that if he was going to get Walt's help that he'd have to give him more. "Well, there were police lights outside. And inside…I think there were people, but they were all lined up in front of the explosion, like they were waiting for it."

"Like hostages?"

"Yeah, that's right," Johnny said. He hadn't thought of that, but it sounded good.

"Any idea where this bank _is_ and if this in the future or the past?" Walt was persistent, but he had a point. They couldn't really investigate every bank in the county, and he was sure it wasn't any bank in Cleaves Mills.

Johnny was quiet for a moment, and then dropped his hands in desperation. "No, I don't know anything else about it."

Walt gave a slightly sympathetic look. "Alright, well if you get any more disturbing mail, give me a call."

Johnny got up, desperate to think of some way to keep Walt there. This wasn't doing much good for starting out anew. Luckily Walt had already had a reason for showing up. If Johnny had called him over just for this it would have gone over much worse. Lost for words, he walked Walt to the front door. "Sorry about that," he said, not sure what else to say.

"It's alright, just give me a call if you figure out anything more concrete." Walt had the door opened, the outside door knob in his hand.

Johnny put his hand on the door to shut it behind him _and he is standing outside his own front door. He knocks a few times, and Johnny answers the door, dressed in his PJs. Johnny smiles, and he stands there and holds up a six pack of beer and they welcome each other. He can't see who he is, for all intents and purposes he is greeting himself into his own house. He walks through the doorway_ and stopped himself from closing the door as Walt walked off of the porch. "Hey," Johnny said. Walt turned around. "You want to come over this Sunday? Maybe watch the game on my TV? I mean, if you're free. Maybe kick back a few beers…"

Walt was caught off guard. Kicking back a few beers and watching the game was not an experience he had shared often with Johnny, but Sarah had likely talked to him about trying to work things out better with Johnny now that he was more a part of the family. "Uhh, sure. I think I could do that." He hesitated a moment, biting his tongue, before saying, "Maybe JJ could come, too."

"Ah, yeah, that'd be great," Johnny said quickly. "Alright, well, I'll call if something else comes up. Otherwise, see you then?"

"Yeah," Walt said, waving as he walked back to his police cruiser.

* * *

Johnny sat on his couch, watching the news. He had been even more vigilant in his news viewing and reading since Stillson had won the election. It was Sunday, and Walt would be there any minute. The last few days had gone past rather uneventfully. He hadn't had a vision when he put the postcard away, and no more strange mail came, just the occasional bill which gave him a glimpse into a postal worker's adultery or something of that nature.

He was apprehensive as he sat there. He had invited Walt over under the pretense that it might fulfill the vision he had seen at his door. The problem was that everything was stacking up against that happening. For one, it was lighter outside. Also, he definitely hadn't had JJ at his side when he was invited into own home by his self. The vision had just seemed very positive. Both he and the person coming in were very happy to see each other, and he had already ruled out Bruce because he definitely didn't have a black hand when he knocked. All that left was Walt. He didn't have any pals that would come over with a six pack of beer. Maybe if it wasn't this weekend then it was just a glimpse into the more-distant future when he and Walt were better friends.

Two hours passed and he still hadn't heard from Walt, and the game was already halfway through, though Johnny wasn't even watching it. Somehow for two hours he had found a way to think about Walt even more, which was strange, because he hadn't cared about the man so much before. Granted, he had saved his life various times, had even saved him from choosing to die, but outside of the saving-lives department, they didn't spend a whole lot of quality time together. Having another guy raise your child while you're in a coma can put an awkward spike in the development of a relationship.

Ten minutes later he heard the doorbell. He changed the TV back to the game, and jumped up to answer the door. It was definitely dark outside. _Night time, check_. Maybe this would work out after all, Johnny thought. When Johnny answered the door (rather than calling out for Walt to come in) he found him standing on the porch alone. _No JJ, check_. "Hey," Walt said, somewhat awkwardly. His hands rose up in a sort of shrug, and then Johnny noticed. _Six pack of beer? Nope._ Apparently this wasn't what he had seen.

Johnny invited him in, pulled out some nachos that he had tossed in the oven for dinner, and sat down at the TV. "So no JJ?"

"No," Walt said, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had brought out. "Somehow his reluctant mommy came up with a very good excuse for him not to come." Walt seemed disappointed about this, and Johnny realized how weird it was that he wasn't looking forward to JJ being there. He really liked the time he was able to spend with JJ now, but there was something about that vision at the door that kept his curiosity running. "He has a math project due this week, so she helped him out. I suggested that you could do a little more in that department, but she insisted that I come alone."

"Don't sound too sad about it," Johnny insisted sarcastically.

"Ugh, sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Walt said, not at all flustered when some people might be. "It's just…" he trailed off.

"I know," Johnny said. Walt held his glance away, keeping it mostly on the television, but they still shared an expression of relief at the other's understanding.

"Sorry I'm late, by the way. The discussion was about a little more than JJ's math project. I had to smooth things out before I could leave the house comfortably." Johnny nodded in mock-understanding. Smoothing over fights was the last of all things that he remembered doing with Sarah.

The conversation moved to the game after awhile, while they munched on nachos and continued to sip at their beers. When the game ended there wasn't much more small talk to make, and Walt walked off to the bathroom for a few minutes. In the relative silence Johnny reflected on whether or not this night had achieved much. He got up to put the empty bottles away, and as he came back into the living room his cane got caught on something and he stumbled into the liquor cabinet, _and he's holding a glass in his hand, which was handed to him by Johnny. He looks up and smiles, and they both toast jokingly before taking a sip of the scotch. They sit back down on the couch together, but for some reason he can't hear anything he or Johnny is saying. All he can hear is "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" from Nirvana's _Lithium_ drowning out all other sound. He sets down his glass _and he caught himself on a table before falling over.

Walt walked in, and Johnny leaned back on the liquor cabinet. "Hey, would you like some scotch?" he asked, only somewhat awkwardly.

Walt looked uncertain. "I don't think so, I kind of have to drive home, Johnny. How would it look if the county sheriff got pulled over on a DUI?"

"Come on Walt, just one drink. Might liven up both of our moods, and then maybe we could get ourselves around this elephant in the room and talk about a little more than the defense getting possession of the ball at the twenty-yard line."

"This is absolutely stupid for a cop to say…but I guess one drink couldn't hurt." Johnny didn't remind him that they had both already drank two beers.

Johnny paid close attention to how he poured the glass, wondering if this would happen like in his vision. He raised his glass in a mock toast, and Walt grudgingly raised his as well, but right away Johnny could tell that it wasn't the same.

"Well, about that elephant," Walt said, giving in to a smile a bit. He started walking into the living room, and Johnny picked up the bottle and brought it with them as they walked, vaguely hoping for more to the vision. Walt took another sip of his drink as he sat in a chair near the couch. "We're both his dads now…_officially_," Walt said slowly. "That sounded dumb."

"No, not at all. It's true. We're both his dad, and I've been thinking that we need to be together on this as more of a united front. I don't want to sound possessive or anything, but don't get me wrong, I'm really happy to be a bigger part of JJ's life now. I think it will work out for all of us best if you and I are on level ground with each other." Both Johnny and Walt finished their drinks after that. Johnny absent-mindedly filled both of their glasses again.

"That's totally right, you're right. We can't be divided on this, it will just confuse JJ more. Sarah's been saying the same thing." Walt took another drink and winced slightly. "It's just…weird. I've gotten over you being in a coma, but this changes things…"

"Weird, for you? I thought I had it bad." Johnny found himself being more sarcastic after drinking.

Walt looked at him and did a double take before shaking his head. "Sorry, you're right. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault," Walt said, shaking is head again. "It's just a very strange situation. I mean, what if JJ is like you?"

"Like me? What, like he has visions too? I don't think he's been in a coma recently, so we're probably alright in that department." Johnny didn't bother mentioning to Walt that he had visions when he was younger, just after being knocked down.

"Yeah, well I'm sure he'll think about it." Walt drank a little more, and Johnny topped off his glass again as he spoke.

"This situation is a little convoluted. The kid normally knows that the new dad is a step dad because the real dad is generally alive and kicking." There was some hidden resentment in Johnny's voice over the fact that Sarah and Walt never told JJ anyways. It was hard not to feel like he had just been dead for six years, and it might be better for some people if he hadn't woken up at all.

It took Johnny a moment to realize that he had said these last things out loud. Walt was looking at him with a whole lot more sympathy than he normally showed. "But you've helped so many people Johnny. And you're going to help so many more people. Hell, I'd be proud if JJ could help people like that…" He took another drink and smiled. "But I'd prefer not to have to put up cameras all over the house."

"Well, the profession is a little dangerous." Johnny smiled bitterly and took a drink.

"Damn, it's kind of late." Walt stood up quickly, possibly too quickly, and stumbled onto the couch next to Johnny. "Woah, I thought I said just one drink."

"I thought you'd have a higher tolerance, buddy," Johnny said, smiling. "I guess the only choice is for you to stay here tonight." Johnny wasn't sure why he said this, it had never been his intention to keep Walt over. Though it was late, he thought Sarah might even prefer to pick him up than to leave him there. Then, on second thought, Johnny decided this may have been her plot all along.

Walt mumbled a bit, and then sank into the couch. "You're probably right. I don't need to be in early tomorrow anyways." He picked up his glass and finished it off. "But what to do?"

Johnny picked up the remote, and instinctively switched to CNN, then gained a little more control and flicked the channel to Comedy Central. A movie was on, and they watched it together rather quietly. They both tried to start conversation up a few more times, but it all fell short of being interesting.

* * *

Johnny jerked his head up. He had nodded off on the couch. He turned his head sleepily to see Walt resting on his shoulder, mouth open and quietly dozing. He then realized that his arm was draped over Walt's shoulder, and wasn't sure what to think about that. He noticed it was around midnight, and shook Walt with his arm. "Hey bud, wake up."

Walt moaned groggily and opened his eyes. "What hon, is it morning?" This only made things a million times more awkward, and John removed his arm and scooted away before Walt could fully process what was going on.

"Nope buddy, but we got to get you to bed." Johnny grabbed his wrist and pulled. "Come on you big lug, I'll put you in the guest room." Walt just shook his head drowsily as Johnny led him to a guest room and sat him down. "Alright, there's no sheets here, so I'm going to go grab some."

Walt nodded and rubbed his eyes as Johnny left. He walked slowly to a hall closet and opened it. He reached out to grab some sheets and _he is standing by the guest room bed, and Johnny is lying in it and smiling. Both of their shirts are gone, and he is slowly kneeling on the bed and straddling Johnny's body. "I'm so lonely, and that's ok, I shaved my head, and I'm not sad." Again, Nirvana is all he can hear. He touches Johnny's chest softly, lightly caressing his nipples with both hands. He leans down and kisses Johnny lightly on the lips, and Johnny gasps sharply as he pinches his nipples between his middle finger and thumb. "Yeeah-ah-ah, Yeeah-eeah-ah," As Johnny's teeth part slightly, he slowly glides in his tongue, and Johnny moans under him as his hand slowly descends and_…"Hey John," Walt cried down the hallway. "I feel kind of woozy, can you hurry up."

Johnny shook his head, and pulled his hand away from his hardening erection. That was definitely not something he had experienced yet. He had felt other people having sexual relations with each other, but never him doing it with himself. But there was more strangeness to it, because he was very sure that whoever was pleasuring him was a man, the same man that would knock at his door with a six pack and drink scotch with him.

He grabbed the sheets and quickly jogged back to Walt's room. "Do you think you're going to throw up?"

"No, just queasy. I just need to lie down." Johnny looked at Walt, and for some reason he felt that in some way he was looking at him for the first time. Johnny had never had any homosexual tendencies or thoughts, yet he had just had a vision in which some man was making love to him. Could the man in the vision still be Walt? "Hey, earth to psychic, toss me the sheets."

Johnny snapped his head away, realizing that he had just been staring at Walt the whole time. He tossed Walt the sheets and gave him an awkward goodnight before practically running away to his own room. That was one vision that he wasn't going to try to make come true. That he'd ever even want to sleep with Walt was insane. Why would he even think about that?

* * *

The next morning Johnny slept in late. He got up quickly in bed and walked to the guest room to see if Walt was still there. The bed was made, and when Johnny checked the living room and dining room they were similarly empty. Finally in the kitchen he found a note. He rested an arm on the counter as he leaned over and read it. "Thanks for the scotch and the talk, Johnny. Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I think we should do it again sometime." Johnny picked up the note, grinned, and crumpled it up.

After he tossed the note in the trash he noticed it. There was a smiley face sticker on his counter under where the note had been. Was this from Walt? Johnny could hardly expect something so…friendly from him. No, the right word was odd, not friendly. He reached down with his finger _and there's soot falling everywhere, all around him. It feels like his jumps into the future with Wey, but there's no devastated Washington DC here, just a room with blackened walls and falling ash. All he can smell is burning and death, and it takes him a while to realize this is the bank, or at least _a_ bank, that was destroyed. He doesn't see any corpses, just ash, everywhere, constantly falling and swirling. He walks to the nearest doorway but the ash thickens in the air, and he can't see. The burnt remnants begin to choke him, he can't breath, and_ he coughed and coughed over the sink until he stopped long enough to get a drink of water.

He stood there, gasping for breath, and once again sweating heavily. It was his first instinct to pick up the phone and call Walt, but then he decided against that. There was no more evidence about the explosion. But the odd thing was the sticker. Had Walt put it there? If so, why, and how was it connected to the explosion? He looked at it a second time and only now noticed that someone had written an "x" over it with pencil. He decided to call Bruce instead, who he probably should have been thinking to call first.

"Hey, what's up?" Bruce asked after picking up.

"Hey, you remember that postcard I told you about?" Johnny asked, looking wearily at the sticker before leaving the kitchen to sit in the dining room.

"You mean the random postcard that gave you a glimpse of death and despair? What about it?" Bruce asked casually. This was kind of an everyday thing between them.

"Well, something else just showed up in my house," Johnny said, quieting his voice a bit without knowing why. Bruce just gave an "uh huh," so Johnny continued. "Walt was over last night, we drank too much so he couldn't drive." Bruce had no response to this. "Anyways, he left this note on the counter."

"Aww, I didn't know he would be so crude after a one night stand. I'm sorry if you're heartbroken or something." Bruce chuckled without continuing.

"You have no idea how not funny that is," Johnny said with a very serious tone. He still hadn't forgotten the vision he'd had at the hall closet. It was fuzzy in his memory, but it was too much to just forget. "_Anyways_, there was a…sticker on the counter under the note." Bruce chuckled again. "I'm not sure if Walt left it, though. When I touched it I got another vision of the bank, but this time after it had been destroyed. I also wasn't sure if it was the same bank, it looked kind of different."

"I thought you didn't see much of the bank," Bruce asked.

"Well, I didn't really, but the overall layout was different. And it felt old, like it had been days since the explosion. There wasn't any dead bodies…just ash."

"Hmm, ash," Bruce said. He sounded kind of busy.

"Yes ash, that was continually falling, like a fog…choking me." Johnny cleared his throat in memory of the feeling.

"Oh, evil ash. Okay," Bruce said, and there came the sound of something falling. "Damnit. Johnny, are you saying somebody broke into your house?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. Walt's not the kind of guy to put smiley face stickers all over the place, is he?"

"Oh, it was a _smiley face_, well that changes everything." Bruce wasn't being very helpful this time. "Haha, well, Johnny, did you ever think of checking the security system? That's what it's for."

"Oh, right, duh." He felt like an idiot. It was his own house, and for some reason that was the last thing he thought about. "Yeah, I'll do that." There was a beep in his ear. "Oh, sorry Bruce, there's someone on the other line."

"Alright John, I'll talk to you later. Call me if you figure anything else out." Maybe it was just Johnny, but Bruce sounded somewhat relieved to get off the phone.

"Will do, bye." Johnny pressed the TALK button on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey John, it's Walt." Right at the sound of his voice Johnny seemed to perk up. He didn't have to call Walt now because Walt was calling him.

"Hey Walt, what's up?"

"Well, I heard something related to your bank vision." He had his police voice on. He wasn't about to talk about the fact that he had just disappeared from Johnny's house early in the morning…as if that mattered.

"Yeah?" Johnny said.

"There was something just…well, frankly, I may have found your bank." Johnny stood up in excitement. "In New York City there was something…similar…to what you described. Well, it looks like an accident, but the police think it might be arson, a bank completely burned to the ground, decimated by some sort of gas explosion." Johnny shuddered. He had seen that: the empty gray grave that had been burnt out completely by the explosion. "But there's more John. Another bank in upstate New York was hit in a similar way, and then one in New Hampshire. That's why the police think it's arson, and they're also considering that perhaps the banks were robbed before being burned down. Both of these were less than a month ago." Johnny was thinking on overdrive. The others banks made sense now, because he had seen two of them. "Johnny, I think we were right about someone playing with you. The last bank that was hit was in Portland."

"What? They've hit four banks and no one has caught them?" Johnny was surprised—any criminal, whether bank robber or arsonist, usually didn't make it too far before being caught.

"My point is that they're getting closer to you. If I'm right, they're going to hit somewhere in Penobscott County. You got a postcard from New York, has anything new come up, anything at all?"

"Well, actually…" Johnny trailed off, unsure of how to explain this. "That note you left in my kitchen, did you put a smiley face sticker under it?"

"Note? What note?" Walt sounded concerned immediately.

"Walt, you're joking me right? It's in your hand writing." Johnny walked back into the kitchen and pulled it out of the trash, uncrumpling it.

"I didn't leave a note. Something came up at the station and I had to come in. Johnny, have you checked your security system?"

"I'm looking at it right now. It is _your_ handwriting. It says: 'Thanks for the scotch and the talk, Johnny. Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I think we should do it again sometime.' You are honestly telling me that you don't remember writing this?" Johnny was confused, and now just a little scared.

"No, I didn't write it. Tell you what, you come down to the station and I'll take a look at this note. Then I'll try to find a way to get to Portland today or tomorrow so that you can check out the bank, and maybe then you can make sense of all this." Was it just Johnny, or did it sound like nobody wanted to talk to him right now?

"Okay, alright, I'll be there in the next hour." Portland was a long drive from Cleaves Mills, but Walt was right. The bank would be able to give him more than these little clues.

"And check your security system. For all we know right now, somebody broke in and planted a note in your kitchen. Now why they would do that, I don't know."

"Yeah, will do. See you soon Walt." They both hung up, and Johnny set down the phone slowly. He was now totally confused. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Walt what the sticker meant, and according to Walt neither was left by him. Johnny wasn't sure what to think, maybe Walt had had a hangover and just didn't remember. They hadn't drank that much though.

Johnny set his jaw firm, and started cooking breakfast, ignoring the smiley face on his counter.


	2. Chapter 2

It was past noon by the time he was at the sheriff's station. As he walked through the doors, he couldn't help but notice the looks he was getting from some of the officers. Some were looks of hidden admiration, but more were those of fear or annoyance. Johnny tried to ignore all of them as he made his way to Walt's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and he politely knocked on the window while peeking in. Walt was speaking with another officer. When he noticed Johnny in the doorway he beckoned him in. "Hey Johnny, this is Officer Matthew Parkman. He's with the NYPD and he's on the case of the arsons. Matt, this is Johnny Smith."

"Oh I know who this is," Matt stood up and smiled. "How are you doing Mr. Smith?" The way this officer looked at Johnny was incredibly unnerving. It wasn't so much his eyes or expression, but Johnny suddenly felt all the hairs on his neck stand on end. Matt seemed to look into all the inner confines of his soul before to putting out his hand for a handshake and then hesitating. "It could help with the investigation, right?"

"Oh, yeah, possibly," Johnny said. The officer put out his hand and Johnny reached out unsurely to shake it _and there's voices, all around him there's voices. He can't hear anything but the voices, and they don't end. He can't make out a single detail, it's as if all the voices in the world are talking to him, trying to tell him things all at once, and he can't listen,_ and then pulled away his hand almost as quickly as they touched. He brought his hands up to his ears and shook his head. After calming down he looked up at Matt dazedly. "Sheriff, would you mind if I talked privately with Mr. Smith for a minute? We have some things we need to discuss."

Walt looked suspicious, unsure of whether or not to go. Johnny blinked his eyes a few times and then nodded his head at him. Walt walked to the door from where he was standing. "Alright," he said reluctantly before leaving.

"Okay, what was that?" Johnny asked as soon as the door closed. He admitted that after the first feeling he got from this guy it was a bit unsettling to be alone in a room with him, but it wasn't like someone would pull something in the middle of the sheriff's station.

Matt sighed. "Alright, here's the thing," he said slowly. "A friend of mine and I have done some research into you after hearing what you're capable of. You walk around and sometimes you hear the name 'Johnny Smith,' but most people think it's a joke. After what I've heard I'm not so sure."

Johnny nodded. "Research, huh?" he said.

"Yes, we know that you woke up from a coma and had your abilities, or so you say. But…I'm sorry to sound like I'm prying, but from as far as we can gather it sounds as if you may have had these abilities before your coma, possibly to a lesser extent."

"You know me so well and I don't even know who you are." Johnny was apprehensive. This guy might know more about him than he wanted him to.

"Johnny, you're not the only one." Matt stared at him and Johnny's expression became more confused. Suddenly he thought _Johnny, you're not the only one who can do things like this_.

Johnny's eyes grew wide. "Are you…" he paused. _Are you in my head?_ he thought.

Matt nodded. "There are other people out there, people with abilities like yours, well, like ours. I'm not sure though if it was just your coma that unlocked your powers, I mean, obviously not everyone who wakes up from a coma has them."

Johnny nodded. "I've met people like me, psychics. But I can't really talk about it, it was a government thing." Johnny smiled. He was curious to hear more from Matt because the way he said "powers" made it seem different than what he might initially think.

"It's more than psychics though, John. Flight, regeneration, mind control…and those are just some of the ones I've seen. You might feel alone up here in Maine, John, but you're not the only one of your kind. What I'm guessing you saw, or rather heard, when you touched me was my ability. I was trying to hear all the thoughts I could in the vicinity." Matt smiled at Johnny's expression of being overwhelmed. "You know what I can do. Now let's see what you can do."

Johnny creased his eyebrows again before Matt dropped his hand on Johnny's shoulder _and he's in a car, possibly a police vehicle. His cell phone is ringing, so he puts the earpiece in his ear and answers it. "Officer Parkman," he says. "Hello, officer, I'm calling to report a bank robbery." The voice on the other line is shaky and uncertain. He's confused. He's off duty and this wasn't the way you called the police. "How did you get this…" he starts, but is interrupted. "There's no time! They have hostages, they told me to call you!" He still doesn't understand. "Who is this!" The man on the other side of the phone doesn't listen. "Matt, you have to come! We'll all die!" He is torn, this person sounds genuinely afraid, but who would know that he had moved to New York and was an officer of the NYPD? Suddenly he feels that his mind is made up. "Alright, alright. Where is the bank…?"_

Johnny pulled his hand away slowly, his eyes unfocused and his brow creased. "Someone called you during the robbery," Johnny said slowly. "They reported it to you. Did you find out who it was?"

"Wow, so you really are a genuine psychic." Matt looked impressed. "That's good. But I have to say that by now you've made yourself a target, and unfortunately for more enemies than one."

"What? What are you talking about?" Johnny was already overwhelmed by the fact that this guy could read minds, now he was saying that other people had powers far beyond what he was capable of and he was in some sort of danger?

"Like I said, there are other people like us out there, and then there are people that don't even want us out there. Essentially I'm warning you Johnny." Matt looked very serious, and also a little afraid.

"Alright, but what does this have to do with burning down banks?" Even for Johnny, this was becoming a lot to process.

"Well, it's complicated. For one, we think these are robberies, just based off of the phone call. For two…well, my personal theory is that the people perpetrating these hits are…well, that they're people like us…and somehow this all comes back to you." At this, Matt simply grabbed Johnny's hand again _and he is standing outside of the smoky rubble that was once a bank. He makes his way inside as he explains the call that he got beforehand once again to his superiors. He is led to a column that somehow remained standing amongst all of the rubble. He looks around and realizes that there is not much of anything left, just the basic infrastructure that was once a bank. Hanging from a nail on the remaining column is what looks like a metal lunch box, the outer details of which are lost to black scorch marks. It's hanging open, and a note with something on it appears to be sitting inside. When he gets closer he doesn't touch it because forensics hasn't been over it yet, but inside he can clearly see a key with a smiley face sticker on it, laying over a note that says "To J.R.S."_

Matt let go of his hand. As Johnny stood in confused silence, the NYPD officer walked over to a chair and picked up a paper bag. He slowly drew out the tin box, and set it on Walt's desk. Out of it he drew a note and a key. "Would you happen to know anything about these, John?"

Johnny shook his head, and they both looked at each other before Matt offered out the note. Johnny reached for it slowly, expecting a vision, but nothing came when he touched the paper. He slowly unfolded it, ignoring the "To J.R.S." that he had already seen. Inside he found a single word written and pasted over and over with letter cutouts from a newspaper: "Hello." On the bottom it said: "– An Admirer." Johnny shook his head and set the note aside. Matt held out the key tentatively, and Johnny's fingers wavered over it. He could feel something strong emanating from it, but he wouldn't know until he touched it. The sticker on the key seemed like it was slightly scorched by something like a lighter. After a moment's hesitation he finally allowed his fingers to grasp the key _pain! White hot pain! Fire, burning, eradication! He can't think, he can't feel, he can't exist in anything but the pain. White is all there is, no people, no bank, just fire and death and blinding light everywhere at once_ and he started writhing on the ground, groaning and clutching his eyes. His fingers that had touched the key burned like they had been stuck on a stove. "What _was_ that?" Matt said, kneeling beside him with his hands on his temples.

Johnny took a minute to get his bearings. "Can you see what I'm seeing?"

"A bit," Matt said, standing up. "I hear words more, but I can get the concepts and emotions as well. I don't usually _see_ things unless I actually put myself in someone's head." Matt reached a hand down to Johnny to help him up. Johnny, still shaken, accepted the help _and he once again finds himself in a vision with himself. His leg is pressed up against Johnny's groin. He's pushing Johnny against a wall, and his arms are holding him tightly. His face is buried in Johnny's neck as he softly moans and rubs his cock against Johnny's leg. Johnny doesn't do much in terms of resistance, but he still isn't sure if he should let himself enjoy it. "Sunday morning is every day for all I care, and I'm not scared," Kurt Cobain sings. He slides his hands up and down Johnny's torso, putting all his thought into his erection and pleasing Johnny. _Oh, this feels so good. Why do I like this? _he hears Johnny thinking. _I've never thought about men before, why now? _He stops his slow rhythmic thrusting against Johnny's leg and dick, and lets his hands rub down from Johnny's bare stomach to the bulge he can feel through his jeans. "Oh my God," Johnny's mouths and thinks at the same time (though he can't hear the words—Nirvana drowns out all sound), finally giving in and wrapping his arms around him. _It's okay to enjoy this, it's alright, _he puts reassuring thoughts into Johnny's mind. He moves his face, rubbing his cheek against Johnny's, and softly kisses him with only his lips. As he starts to softly caress Johnny's now-raging erection, he kisses him harder, and wills him to open his lips, to part his teeth. _I want you so much,_ they both think at each other. As his tongue slides past Johnny's teeth and into his awaiting mouth, he slides his crotch right up against Johnny's and massages the both of their erections together, still holding him against the wall. They both moan in excitement, and Johnny begins thrusting against him. _I want you so much, _they both think again_ and Johnny didn't get up from the ground as Matt withdrew his hand.

The awkward silence that followed was almost painful. They tried not to look at each other, but there was no where else to look. "So…you saw that?" Johnny finally said.

"That one I saw, yeah." They finally looked one another in the eye and neither knew what else to say. "Was that…me?"

"Well, I mean, you can't know," Johnny said, half-mumbling. "Could be anyone…"

Matt interrupted him. "But…I read your thoughts…in the vision I mean." Johnny's mouth opened and closed. He had nothing to say.

Just then Walt walked in. Matt quickly turned and rested a hand on Walt's desk, and Johnny stood up in a rush, pushing down the erection that was hidden in his pants. Walt looked at both of them suspiciously. "Done talking yet?" They both muttered a "yeah" in response. "Right, well, John, I've got time now to go to Portland with you so that you can actually check out one of these banks…" He noticed the lunch box on his desk. "But first I'm going to need you to clue me in as to what's going on here."

"Well, uhh…" Johnny started. "Matt here…I mean, Officer Parkman, here, he was at the bank, like you said..."

"Yes, John, I already know that," Walt said. "But what's that on my desk?"

"This?" Matt said. "This is a piece of evidence, left at the bank in New York City." He picked up the note and the key and handed them to Walt. "Actually, there were similar pieces of evidence at the second and third banks that I was just about to share with Mister Smith." Matt went back to the bag and pulled out an envelope and a Ziploc bag. Johnny walked forward and Matt set them on Walt's desk for him to examine while keeping his distance.

Walt came up over Johnny's shoulder and set the key and note by the envelope and bag after looking at them closely. Johnny touched the envelope first. It was labeled "To J.R.S." in fine calligraphy. "That was left at the other bank in New York. It was tacked to a wall after the explosion." Johnny flipped it over. Sealing the envelope was a smiley face sticker that had been ripped by the officers who'd already opened it. Like the sticker on his counter (and he now noticed as well on the sticker on the key) someone had drawn an "x" over the face. He nonchalantly went to open the letter and _he finds himself bound and gagged on the floor. There are at least two people to his right and left, but his vision is obstructed by something on his face so he can't see well. Someone is yelling, but everything, even sound, is blurred by the tears streaming from his eyes. Suddenly, someone touches his head _Johnny drew back his finger and shook his head.

He pushed open the envelope without touching the sticker again, and tugged out the letter inside. He began to unfold the piece of paper and _he finds himself bound and gagged on the floor again. There are people to his left but no one to his right. His vision is again obstructed by something on his face, and someone is yelling. He's trying to listen, but all he can think is _Why, why, why? Why me, why today, why?_ "This is not the end…" he hears before someone touches his head _Johnny dropped the letter on the carpet. All three of them looked down to see that the paper was covered in smiley face stickers, each with a black "x" over it. "It seems to be their mark. At the first bank there were stickers like this stuck all over the floor, burned into the carpet in random places. We counted around twenty, but some of them were unrecognizable and we might have missed some."

Johnny looked at Walt and Matt before kneeling down over the letter. He touched another sticker and _he finds himself bound and gagged on the floor once again. There are people to his right and left. His vision is again obstructed by something on his face, but what he can see is different than before. Someone is yelling. "It's nothing personal, really…" His fists are clenched so tight that his palms hurt. He sees someone walk in front of him and they touch his head._ "What are you seeing Johnny?" Walt asked, kneeling beside him.

Johnny lifted his hand away from the letter. "The hostages, I think…I think each sticker represents one of them." He paused, and touched another, than another, and each time he got a very similar vision but heard different words and thought and felt different things. "Yeah," he said finally, breaking Walt and Matt's anticipation. He stood up and looked at Matt, then quickly looked away to Walt. "I see each hostage for just a few seconds when I touch each sticker. I don't actually see their faces, but rather…"

"You go inside their heads," Matt finished for him.

"Yeah, that's right," Johnny said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Wait, I have an idea." Johnny knelt down again, and rather than touching just one sticker with his finger, he hovered his entire hand over the paper. He hesitated, wondering what might happen, before dropping his whole palm against the paper and _he sees the scene in a panoramic view from each of the small eye holes in the masks covering each of the hostages. Down the line someone is touching the heads of each hostage one by one while someone is yelling "…know what you're thinking. 'Why me? Why did I go to the bank today? Why God, why?' Well, life isn't all about you. There's no cosmic, heavenly, or karmic reason for you being here. It's merely fate, the way things happen. And yes, you might die today, but this is not the end of the world. Now, I'm not going to spew some self-obsessed philosophy, or try to justify my actions to you. I just want you to know that it's nothing personal, really…This is all so that I can say…Hello Johnny." At that moment, the puppet master of the whole event looks right into Johnny's mind, reaching out a hand through time and space to touch his brain and…_

Johnny was shaking after he lifted his hand away from the page. It took him a second to realize he had said everything from the vision out loud. Walt reached down to help him up and put an arm over his shoulder and _he is being pinned by Johnny against the bathroom wall, just the way Matt held him down, making him powerless. He sits there, drunk, and feeling like he doesn't even know what's hit him. He struggles at first, but Johnny's tongue caressing his neck cools him down. Johnny's mouth is slathering all over his, and their lips and tongues are lolling in a wet mess. He feels Johnny subconsciously thrusting his cock against his leg like a dog. Johnny's arms find their way up his bear torso under his shirt, and he quickly pulls the whole thing off. Soon enough they both are down to their boxers, and have tripped out into the hallway. They both fall on the floor; their erections press together, the heat from one another's body brings each of them to the edge. Their tongues and lips still remain magnetized, and neither is focused so much on kissing well as much as trying to feel as much of the other's mouth at once as possible. He takes control over Johnny now, and presses Johnny to the ground. He sits over Johnny and begins slowly rubbing the soft skin of his cock in one hand. Johnny merely looks up at him in ecstasy and says "Oh God, please, please…" He doesn't know what Johnny wants, but he knows what he wants, and though Johnny got to be in control before, he was now sober enough to take control over Johnny. He flips his body over, and lays himself against Johnny's back. He presses his cock against Johnny's now-bare ass, sliding back and forth until he has the nerve enough to push it in and _Johnny gasped and pulled away.

"What is it now?" Walt asked. Matt was staring at Johnny like he was a ghost, or a pedophile, or something just generally really bad.

Johnny backed away and sat in a chair. He started to ramble, "This is too much. Today, this is just too much. Can we go to Portland tomorrow? I just…I need a break…" Johnny was shaking. He felt sick in more ways than one—the feeling of impending death was clinging to his skin, he was more sexually excited than he thought he ought to be, and both men's stares were making him feel naked and exposed.

"Um, sure John," Walt said. "I guess I can move some things around. I thought you'd want to get on this as soon as possible though. Is there…can I help you out at all?"

"No!" Johnny shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Walt, I just…This is a lot to take in." His mind raced to make up something that could get him out of the room. "All those people, I was just in their heads…and they're dead because…because some lunatic is just trying to mess with me. They're dead because I am interesting to a psycho."

"You can't blame yourself, John," Walt started up.

"I know, Walt!" Johnny stood up and walked to the door. "But I still feel like it's my fault…to some degree, right? So…so just…tomorrow."

"Alright John. Matt and I will talk more about this, you…you can go home. I'll call you in the morning." Walt walked over and opened the door as if Johnny was an invalid and couldn't do it himself. As he walked out, he noticed that Matt was refusing to even look at him, awkwardly scuffing his feet on the carpet like a dejected kid in the principal's office.

As Johnny left the police department, he could hear Walt suddenly grilling Officer Parkman as to why they hadn't been informed that Johnny's initials were on evidence, and Matt responding that J.R.S. could be anyone, and…Johnny just didn't even care. When Johnny got home later, he would crawl into bed, ignoring the fact that there was still a smiley face on his counter, trying to avoid touching any stray sheets, doorknobs, or scotch bottles, and go straight to sleep.

* * *

Johnny was startled awake many hours later with an erection and thoughts of fucking Walt while Sarah watched them. He stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, splashing water over his face. For a few moments he felt like he should _want_ to vomit, but surprisingly he didn't feel sick at all. That on some basic level he _wasn't_ bothered by these incessant homoerotic visions was even more bothersome. Perhaps that he was always the _other _person pleasuring _himself_ made it less of a homosexual thing and more of a…no, it was definitely still a homosexual thing.

He tried to think of things that could distract him. Suddenly, like a beacon of light in a storm, he remembered that he'd never checked his security cameras to see how the sticker had gotten in his kitchen. He strolled to his office and flicked on the computer, all the while paranoid that something else in his house would trigger a vision of him on his knees and sucking his _own_ dick.

Shaking this out of his head, he turned his attention to security camera footage, rewinding back to this morning. He stopped when he saw Walt walking down into his living room. He tracked through various cameras until he pieced together something almost as surprising as every vision he'd had that day. At 6 in the morning, Walt had gotten out of bed, gotten dressed, walked downstairs, waltzed into Johnny's kitchen…and written a note, leaving it on the counter before walking out the front door.

This new development left Johnny stumped. Because he couldn't really get a camera angle on what Walt was doing at the counter, he had no idea where the sticker came from, or even if Walt had put it there. He fast-forwarded until he had woken up and walked into the kitchen, but there was nothing else to see. No one had crept in that morning to leave any stickers of doom. That only left Walt…but Walt had denied even writing the note.

Before he could consider it further, he heard the doorbell. It was dark out, and he wasn't expecting anyone, which meant it would probably be Bruce. Not bothering to dress back up out of his pajamas, he called "coming" and walked down to unlock the door. He was filled with a little relief at the idea that it could be Bruce. At least then he might be able to get _some_ of this off his chest with a good friend—though he didn't know if he'd ever let someone else know about the weird gay visions.

Upon opening the door, all good humor was wiped from Johnny's face. Matt Parkman was standing on his porch, holding a six pack of beer and smiling meekly. Johnny looked down at his PJs and back up at Matt. "No, no, no, no!" Johnny shouted.

Matt's smile slipped away and he shook his head. "Damnit, I knew it was a bad idea to come here." Without saying anything else, Matt turned to go.

"Wait," Johnny said. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault." Matt stopped and turned around. "It's just…fuck. I had a vision…about someone coming to my door…with a six pack of beer." Matt took this news incredulously, clearly not knowing why this was such a terrible thing. "And then…well, hell, you can read my thoughts. You know what it is."

Matt shook his head. "I don't read people's thoughts all the time. I…try not to spoil everyone's privacy. It gets a little overwhelming, and I just end up feeling bad."

Johnny sighed. "Well, you saw the vision earlier! Do I have to spell it out?"

Matt shrugged and looked away. "I was thinking…well, I don't know. Whoever was in that vision wasn't necessarily me. I mean, no, it wasn't me. Other people can read thoughts. If you see the future, it wasn't me. I'm not gay, okay? I just wanted to clear the air before we leave tomorrow—"

"You're coming with us?" Johnny asked.

Matt's shoulders sunk low. "Well…yes…I'm assisting the FBI in the investigation."

"I thought you were with the NYPD," Johnny said matter-of-factly. In all his adventures, he'd learned something about departmental jurisdiction. It surprised him that he hadn't even wondered why an NYPD officer was all the way up in Maine.

"The FBI…knows about us—I mean, about specials like us, people with powers. I'm kind of an inter-departmental asset on the east coast…" He stopped. "Look, can I come inside? It's cold, and I just wanted to come over here to clear things up. However that vision looked, I'm not here to…to…I'm not gay. I have a wife and a kid." Walt had a wife and kid too, but Johnny had still had a vision of passionate sex after just touching his shoulder.

Johnny mulled it over, looking off into the nighttime sky. He felt like he could trust Matt. It wasn't as if this was a conspiracy against Johnny, no one was _making_ him see these weird sexual visions. Perhaps they were just…alternate timelines in which Johnny was gay, or some sort of misinterpretation. Maybe he was seeing someone's fantasy of him somehow, maybe some _other_ mind-reader would come on to him and Johnny would go through a gay phase…maybe, maybe, maybe…

"Fine," he finally answered, moving aside to let Matt into his house.


End file.
